Take My Hand
by sienna27
Summary: Memories Universe. Story 1 of 3. Prequel to "The Memories of Us" where Caryl was in an established and loving relationship starting canon season four. This pops in on them about six months earlier, during that gap time between seasons two and three.
1. The Ice Follies

**Author's Note:** This was a planned one shot that started to get super long (as they always do) so I decided to make it a two shot, because otherwise it probably would have been six months before I wrapped it up. And as outlined in the summary, this is the same universe as "The Memories of Us," though this one takes place during the gap time between season two and season three. If you read the other story, they were opening season four in a very loving, established, relationship. This is them at an earlier stage. More at the end.

And just as a general note, huge thank you everyone who has left reviews or faved or followed or anything, _on_ anything because I know I'm WOEFULLY behind on responding to your notes. I really do try to get back to folks individually as much as possible, but life gets crazy, or I get crazy, and time passes. Please don't ever think that your comments aren't appreciated though, because knowing you guys/gals are enjoying this stuff, is what motivates me to put up the next chapter or next story. If you all weren't out there I'd just be spitting in the wind :)

Anyway, picking up here in the middle of a scene.

* * *

 **The Ice Follies**

"Whaa . . . oh shit."

The curse left Daryl's lips as a hiss, a split second after he slammed into Carol's back and nearly knocked her to the ground. Because he'd just realized why she'd stopped short in the middle of the icy, stone lined pathway they'd run out onto ten seconds before.

There was a herd staggering down the street in front of them.

Two dozen walkers at least, right within view, slipping and sliding on the snow covered ground. A lot of them were taking spills and falling to their knees, then the ones comin' behind would trip over them. There were little piles of walkers forming, with the dead bodies crawling out from underneath, then back up to their feet again, before another one would fall.

It was like a damn comedy show outta hell.

And hearing Carol start to hyperventilate in front of him, Daryl quickly slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her to his chest . . . her nails immediately dug into the back of his hand.

"Shhh," he breathed into her ear as he began to slowly inch them back towards the door to the abandoned house they'd just been foraging in for supplies. The distance was only maybe five or six feet, but at that moment it might as well have been a half mile. 'Cuz they couldn't move fast, but if they were spotted by that herd of walkers before they could get back inside . . . his jaw twitched . . . they were gonna be dead themselves. Really, probably the only things saving them at the moment were the weather . . . there'd been a light, steady, snow falling for the last few hours which would be screwin' up their vision some . . . and the time of day.

It was late afternoon, and what sunlight there was coming through the storm clouds, was maybe an hour from fading off into that slate grey sky.

The one other lucky thing he just noticed too, was how there were enough big elm trees in the yard they were in, that the shadows foldin' in around them were long. Better still, one of those long shadows was spilling right over their slippery walkway. Which meant that all he and Carol needed to do, was just not make any sharp moves, or let out any heavy breaths . . . even with the snow swirling, the air was cold enough to see the air coming out of your lungs . . . and hopefully they'd stay hidden until they could get back inside the house again. So even though it was KILLIN' him not being able to just grab up Carol, turn around and RUN(!), he kept them moving soooo fuckin' slowly, backwards, one half shuffled step at a time.

It was like even though he knew that only seconds were passing them by, (fifteen, maybe twenty so far), it was still taking a God damn ETERNITY to bump into the door again! But hell, he thought with what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze of Carol's freezing cold fingers, maybe they'd run out farther than he'd thought they had. After all, they'd been moving fast to stay warm, with the plan to hit one more house to look for supplies, before they headed back to the others at their new encampment in the big yellow house, two streets over. So basically they'd been moving like it was a non-stop fifty yard dash for the last hour of their foraging through that neighborhood. Now though, Daryl was feeling a sharp spike in the panic settin' in that too much time was passing. And he was just about to risk doing a full swivel of his head to take a look at their position relative to the safety of the front door, when he caught a glimpse in his side vision of one of the wilted shrubs in front of the picture window.

Which meant . . . thank you Jeezus(!) . . . they were almost there now!

Of course it was just then, when Daryl started to feel a slight bit of hope they weren't about to be walker chow, that a gust of frigid wind swirled up and around them. And even with his angel vest, and the two layers of flannel he was wearing underneath it, the sharp drop in temperature shot a shiver straight down his spine.

He could feel the same in Carol's body where she was pressed against him.

It wasn't two seconds later though, when he realized the thing that was SO much worse than just suffering that whip of bitter cold when they were already underdressed for the weather, and wet from the snow, was how that wind seemed to have been strong enough to catch their 'living person' scent, and blow it across the yard and out towards the street. Because he'd barely blinked that thought, before he saw two of the walkers out by the curb suddenly tip their heads back and start to sniff the snowy air.

Carol's nails broke through his skin.

And knowing they were out of time, Daryl finally did risk that full head swivel just to see how close they were to the door . . . only two feet away, thank Christ . . . and that was damn close enough! So he finally did what he'd been wantin' to do since they'd first froze up in the middle of the walkway . . . he just scooped Carol up around the waist with one arm, while at the same time he reached back to snag that icy doorknob with the other hand.

He had the door open and the two of them back inside the house, in six seconds flat.

The problem was though, that even if they were in more of a shadowy space than they had been before . . . it was probably looking like near pitch from the street, twenty paces out . . . those two walkers that had caught their scent, had just caught their movement now too.

They were staggering towards the house.

Even worse than that though . . . he sucked in a breath . . . there were two more following after them.

And another that had turned to look.

Immediately feeling his already racing heart start to full on gallop in his chest, Daryl quickly . . . though as QUIETLY as fucking possible, less they bring even more attention on themselves(!) . . . gave Carol a shove off towards the darkened dining room, and pushed the door shut. Then he hit the deadbolt, before he threw his back against the smooth lacquered wood.

And dear GOD how he was wishing right then that freaking door was made of metal!

"Get a chair from the kitchen," he hissed over at the one woman in the world, he could no longer get through his days without . . . she was standing there still lookin' terrified, and half stunned, at their cluster fuck of a situation, "I'll hold it 'til then!"

"Right, right," she gasped out even while she was dropping down to the hardwood, her rifle, and the canvas bag only a quarter full with the meager bit of food they'd found on their house to house, to race down the hallway they'd walked out of like normal, just a few minutes earlier.

And while she disappeared into the shadows . . . there was hardly any light now with the door shut and the windows boarded up . . . Daryl moved to brace his boots against the muddied floor. Because he could feel the knob behind him starting to turn.

It was digging into his hip.

First one way . . . then the other. But then he saw Carol running back, twisting as she came around the corner, carrying one of the straight back wooden kitchen chairs in each hand.

She nearly bounced into the wall.

At that point he was starting to feel that push from the other side of the door, and he knew, that THEY knew, there was food inside there. And even though he got how they could sniff out a meal, the fact that fucking DEAD people . . . half of who were literally rottin' off the bone . . . could be so God damn STRONG, was still beyond him even this this many months into The Turn! So while he twisted his lower body to the left, Carol moved in to jam the first chair under the doorknob.

And she got it.

It actually was a pretty good brace too. It was even better when she moved to flip the other chair over and put it down flat on the floor. Then she tangled up those legs with that of its mate, and angled it so the top back, was pressing into the opposite wall, running next to the staircase. So basically, the front door couldn't be opened from the outside anymore. Well, okay, if the deadbolt flew off, and both chairs snapped into pieces of kindling, then yes it would, "open." It would definitely take more than a few walkers to get that kind of force though. They'd actually probably need at least a dozen or more pressing all together at once. Not that he was plannin' on sticking around that front hallway to see if a dozen more dead folks would show up.

Hell freakin' no, man, they were moving their asses OUT of there!

So now that the door was safe to step away from, he shoved his bow back over his shoulder from where it had fallen to his elbow, grabbed Carol's hand . . . she in turn snatched up her rifle and their supply bag off the floor . . . and he started pulling her up the stairs.

Ordinarily of course as they tripped along, their wet boots slipping on the shiny baseboards, he wouldn't be lookin' to hide inside a house that a group of walkers were trying to get into . . . he'd just run them out the back door. But when they were ransacking through what had turned out to be an already well picked over kitchen, they'd seen how the back door on this place had been nailed shut some time ago. As too, again, were all of the first floor windows. Even the frame around the front door had had nail holes in it on the inside, showin' that at one point the whole place had been sealed up tight, while somebody likely tried to make a stand. God knew how that'd turned out for whoever, but when he and Carol had come across this place maybe a half hour ago now, that front door had been half open, with a little swirl of dusty snow blowing into the hall. And they hadn't found anybody (living or dead) inside the house, nor any remnants of such either, so that was something. Though it would've been nice if those boards from the door had still been there as an extra security measure . . . it was actually kind of weird they were gone, unless somebody took 'em for a weapon of sorts . . . but he and Carol could at least be grateful for the amount of reinforcements that were still in place around the downstairs. Because even if they knew from experience on the farm, how a full herd could easily take down a whole building, this house wasn't directly in the path of the herd. They'd just picked up a few strays.

At least Daryl was praying to God it was still just a few strays.

He figured though that either way there was enough movement going on outside with the wind and the snow, that the walkers who had been following after them should be gettin' distracted by something else, soon enough. 'Cuz really, it wasn't like they had any concentration in those rotted brains of theirs.

All they had was the drive to eat.

So yeah, as he and Carol climbed off the last stair, and stepped onto the dusty red carpet runner going the length of the upstairs hallway, Daryl was pretty sure they'd be safe inside that house. But just to totally cover their bases, he figured the best thing to do would be to hole up in one of the bedrooms, and block that door off too. It'd give them an extra layer of security.

Enough so they could get some rest without fear of gettin' gnawed on in their sleep.

Because as he began moving them forward again, he knew that with both the sun going down, and the scores of dead people swarming the neighborhood, they weren't goin' to be able to go anywhere 'til morning, or they'd just be going on a suicide run. And they hadn't lived through all they had so far . . . he gave Carol's fingers a squeeze . . . to be dying some dumbass way like that.

Then of course the other real concern with them trying to leave, aside from the main one of just straight up gettin' _themselves_ killed, would be if, in them tryin' to get back to the others, that they ended up leading a whole swarm of walkers down on top of the group.

And Daryl would never forgive himself if that happened.

So the truth was . . . he stopped short in the middle of the hallway to let his eyes to the darker shadows . . . hiding up here wasn't just their best option out of the limited ones they had, it was their only option. His hope though was, that by mornin', the walkers clawing at the door right now, would have long since lost the scent of fresh meat, and the herd would've cleared the area, because that's just what herds did.

Then they could go see how the others had made out.

In the meantime, all he had to do was keep Carol safe, 'cuz that was his job. At least that's how he saw it these days, as long as she was okay, then he was okay. He wasn't quite sure when that had become the way of things, but that it was. Which was why, after he could see clearly again, he turned to look over at her staring down at the dusty rug.

"Ya'll right?" He whispered. And her eyes immediately shot up to his, as she gave him a sharp nod.

"Yep," she cleared her throat, "yeah, I'm okay."

After all these months living together, Daryl could usually tell when she was puttin' him on or not. And on this one, it seemed like she might be telling the truth. At the same time though, even with the dim light he could see how her color was bad, and he could feel even just by holding her hand, how she was shaking in her wet clothes. And after he looked over at her for a few more seconds, with their eyes locked, he decided that she might've been all right on the mental side, but physically she wasn't doing too great. What he needed to do was get her warmed up, and some food into her, then he'd be able to tell if it was anything more serious than just a crap day. He didn't want her to know he was worried though, so before he looked away, his lip quirked up a bit.

She immediately smiled back.

It was a tired, weary smile, but it still made his heart feel good. Because she was the only woman who had ever looked at him like that. Like he actually made her happy.

Maybe even almost as happy as she made him.

It'd be kind of crazy if that was true, but as he gave her cold fingers a squeeze, he was reminded that they lived in a world now of crazy things . . . who was to say that wasn't one more that was true?

So with that, and a slight tug on her hand . . . he continued walking them down the hall.

* * *

 _A/N 2: Again in their zeal to keep on keeping on with the comics, I think they lose these windows of time to cover that could be really interesting. Like this winter of them starving and constantly being on the run. They literally devoted just the season three opening teaser to it, and that was that. I'll allow that they did it really well because if you rewatch it you'll note there is not one line of dialogue. You got everything about the life they were living then, and how their roles had changed and the group had bonded, all without one word being spoken aloud. But they could have gone with that teaser, then given us one episode of that life, and let it end with them finding the prison. Same thing in season five when they went north to drop off Noah in Richmond. They can't even go on a food run the next town over without somebody dying, but nobody in the production office thought it might be interesting to see them travel THREE HUNDRED MILES through the southland! Like NOTHING eventful happened that whole week long trip? Really? Again, not asking for a whole season, but one or two episodes on the road and shit hitting the fan, and a couple narrow escapes would have been good stuff. I'd also like to see walkers in the snow, and how that affects them, because the way they drag their broken bones along, the slip sliding all over the ice was very clear in my head. Anyway, that's what FF is for :)_

 _And I do have the rest of their evening here plotted out again, with the plan of doing this as a two shot, but I am considering the wacky idea of just posting a story like a normal person with these 3k+ chapters, which obviously can cleaned up a lot faster. We'll see how my brain goes. Just want to get it done :)_

 _Thanks all!_


	2. Lost In The Surburbs

**Author's Note** : I know it's not the most popular story I have going :) but I liked the atmosphere here, so it was a world where my stressed brain felt comfortable. Probably in part because there is a short-term, end in sight. Though the end is not in this chapter. I had initially planned to wrap it here, but I'll explain at the end why I did not.

Picking up directly from chapter one.

* * *

 **Lost In The Suburbs**

Daryl's nose twitched at the smell of the stale air surrounding them in that long, fancy, upstairs hallway. It was the second time in twenty minutes that they'd made the walk through there. The first time of course was just to make sure they were all alone in that house.

This time it was to make sure that they _stayed_ all alone in that house.

"The way I'm thinkin'," he began speaking then on a murmur to Carol, just because it was always wise to stay quiet when there were walkers swarming about . . . even if they were outside, "is that one of these bedrooms here on the back of the house will work for tonight. We'll settle in and barricade the door just on the off chance any walkers break through that brace downstairs. And then worst case," he tipped his head, "if they _do_ get up here and we get pinned in, once the herd clears we can always climb out a window and onto the roof of that extended porch we saw earlier. We can make a jump to the grass and a run from there," he shot a glance over to the woman at his side . . . she was still looking much too pale, "does that sound all right to you?"

"Um, uh, yeah," Carol answered with a slight stammer as she tipped her head back to listen to the wind whistling around the eaves, "yeah, I think that sounds like a good plan."

Really whatever Daryl thought was best, almost always was what was best. Even Rick took his counsel now before he made any big decisions. Some days it seemed like their fearless leader trusted Daryl's judgment more so than he did even his own.

Most days she felt the same way though.

Not that all of these months on the road hadn't earned Rick her loyalty again, because it had. She'd come to see that he was probably right to keep what he'd learned about the disease from the rest of them until he'd had his own proof about the reanimations, but from the beginning her loyalty to Daryl was different. What she'd felt for him had always been different . . . and then it had started to become more. It was actually about four or five months ago now since she'd realized that she was falling in love with the man. That had been a bit of a surprise.

It had also caused some panic too.

Because she hadn't wanted to fall in love with him. Loving anyone in this new world was a sure path to heartbreak.

She'd learned that lesson better than anyone.

So even while she was still praying that her feelings for Daryl would just go away, one day at the farm a few weeks before poor Dale had been attacked and the rest of their world there fell apart, she'd caught the object of her (unwilling) affections staring at her across the dinner table. Then she'd caught him doing the same thing again the next morning over breakfast. After that, she'd started paying closer attention. And that's when she realized that he'd been doing that all the time.

Watching her when he thought that she wasn't looking.

Still, it wasn't until he'd started coming out to sit with her on the porch at night after dinner . . . which was something that Glenn had been doing with Maggie for months . . . that Carol had been sure her grumpy hillbilly was likely as sweet on her, as she was on him. And once she'd accepted that truth, she finally accepted the other. That her feelings for him weren't going away.

They were just growing stronger.

Which meant that her heart would likely be broken again no matter what, so she might as well embrace what was happening. After that she asked him to go for a walk with her around the farm. The walks quickly became a regular thing. Then they'd started sitting together not only those evenings on the porch, but at meals too. They just liked to be near each other. And with all that time together, she could usually make him smile a real smile, at least once a day.

She loved his smile.

They'd been going slow though. No kissing or hugging or anything more. Yes, some days she wished that one of them (she wasn't putting this all on him) would gear up the courage to make some kind of real move, but most days she was content to live with what they had. And what they had was a steady companionship, gentle humor . . . and an unwavering loyalty. Her eyes crinkled as he squeezed her fingers . . . there was a lot of hand holding too. That was mainly how they expressed their physical affection. Bottom line, Daryl just made her happy.

And being happy was enough.

Like right now . . . she bit her lip as he stopped to look into one of the bedrooms . . . even with a herd out in the street, she knew that this man would keep her safe because that was just what he did. That was even though for the most part, most days, she could look after herself now. Her expression softened as they started walking again.

Not that that seemed to make any difference to him.

Because whenever any situation started to go sideways . . . which they did ALL the damn time . . . he was right there, stepping in front of her, or pushing her to the side, just always trying to keep her out of harm's way as much as he could. And then when whatever crises had passed, she was always the first one that he ran over to check. That's when his tone would soften, and he would reach out to squeeze her hand and touch her cheek, almost like he was reassuring himself . . . as much as he was her . . . that she was okay. Then he'd give her that little crooked half smile that he saved just for her.

It made her heart ache.

It was at that moment when Carol realized that Daryl had just stopped them in front of another one of the bedrooms. And seeing where they were made her breath catch like it had when they'd been upstairs for the first time. Because the room they were now looking into, was the one filled with Barbie dolls and stuffed animals, and decorated with pictures of horses and kittens on the walls.

A little girl around Sophia's age had once slept there.

And just like Sophia, this girl, Kimberly . . . her name was spelled out in big purple and black block letters on the wall . . . she was very likely dead now too. Carol's eyes started to burn.

So this was most definitely NOT the room for them to sleep in tonight!

Daryl seemed to process that same fact at about the exact same moment she did. Because he suddenly squeezed her hand so tight right before he started pulling her along with a tight murmur of, "I'm sorry, I'd forgot this one was hers. I was just seein' which room would line up best with the porch."

"It's okay," she whispered back, even while she turned to give him a teary smile, "no harm done."

His expression twisted then into one of pain and regret. Then he reached up with his free hand to brush the backs of his fingers along the curve of her jaw, and Carol had to let her lashes fall shut for a second.

Otherwise she would have started to weep.

But then she felt his hand fall away, just as he gave another tug on her fingers. So she opened her watery eyes again, now to see him leading her past the oversized curio cabinet filled with little glass figurines. It was clear that he was heading for the last open door, and that time she remembered the layout of the room before they actually took the turn.

It was the master bedroom.

And she could tell from Daryl's faint hum to himself of, "yeah, this one'll work fine," as he again paused for a moment to look inside, that he was much more pleased with this room than he had been with the last. But really aside from having no hints of dead children once living in here, it was the perfect place to hole up. For one thing, the room was filled with heavy wooden furniture that they could use for a blockade on the door. Also though, there was a big brick fireplace that lined up with the one they'd seen in the living room, one window that led out onto the roof of their 'emergency escape' porch, and another window . . . that one on the east side of the house . . . that would give them a full view of the side yard, and a decent glimpse of the street out front. It was important to always be able to check around those corners.

Daryl had taught her that.

Plus she knew from their earlier walk-thru that there was a small bathroom off this room too. It wasn't likely the plumbing would be working, but as Daryl guided her over the threshold and onto the thick green carpeting within, she was grateful that at least they'd have somewhere to pee. And peeing was about the only thing they ever needed to do these days for bathroom breaks, because it seemed like it had been weeks since they'd eaten enough food to expel anymore waste than that. If they took in four or five hundred calories a day now they were lucky. Truly, her stomach had become so shrunken, that she wasn't sure what would happen if she tried to eat a real meal again.

She'd probably throw up three bites in.

And Carol was still thinking about a day where she might actually be able to eat a full dinner like the old days (even one she threw up), when Daryl gave her a light pat on the shoulder to get her to move out of the way. That's when she realized that with where she'd stopped, she was blocking the doorway. Once she was out of the way though, he got that heavy door closed and locked before he turned around to push his bow in her general direction.

"Just put it somewhere handy," he murmured softly as she took it from his hands, "'cuz hopefully I won't need it again until morning."

So while she turned to walk over to the king sized bed with the weapon that had saved their lives more times than she could count . . . him going for the silent kill was always better than any of the rest of them firing a shot . . . Daryl turned the other way, to walk over and pick up the large cherry wood dresser lining the wall adjacent to what she knew was the bathroom. And after he'd cleared off the few knickknacks from the top, with barely a grunt of exertion . . . even if he was thinner now, his muscles hadn't really faded, they'd just become wiry . . . he hoisted that clunky piece of furniture up, and walked over to place it down in front of the door he'd just locked.

The carpet muffled the thump of that hunk of wood dropping back onto the floor.

And once the piece was lined up flush with the wall . . . that took a little bit of adjustment on his part . . . he over to gather up the two matching cherry vanities on either side of the bed. The difference with how he handled those smaller pieces though, was how when he got back to the door, he opted to just pile them on top of the dresser, upside down and side by side. She knew that was to give some extra weight and heft to the door itself, in case any walkers showed up and started pushing on the other side. But those three pieces of furniture all together definitely made a solid barricade and Carol would know, she thought with a wry huff to herself, because they'd certainly built enough of them these last few months. Some days when they were looking for things to reinforce the windows and doors of whatever long abandoned house they were sheltering in, it felt like they were actually playing a live action version of that Jenga game. Though in the world they lived in now, there was a very different penalty for stacking the pieces up in the wrong order. She turned away from the door with a sigh.

You just died.

After Daryl had finished repositioning the last piece of the furniture barricade to his satisfaction, he turned around again. That time it was to see Carol placing her rifle and their small bag of supplies, down at the bottom of the bed next to his bow. Then he watched as she walked over to the window facing to the east, overlooking the side yard.

She tipped her head down to peer into the middle gap of those thick gold curtains.

They ran all the way down to the floor.

"My God," she hissed at him, half over her shoulder, "they're swarming through all of the back and side yards now too. I think the storm's getting them confused," her voice faded, "they look like locusts in the snow."

"Yeah well," he grunted back with a wave of his hand, "if there are that many out there, best you back up some before one of them gets a glimpse of you moving in the window, because all we're lookin' to do here is stay invisible 'til morning."

Then he jerked his head over towards the bed as his expression softened.

"Why don't you lay down before you fall down?" He continued on in the quieter tone he usually used these days when speaking to her, "and you should take off your wet layers while you're at it, 'cuz I can see you already got the shakes and those are just goin' to get worse until you get dry."

It was time for him to make a small fire in that fireplace too. Yeah, building a fire was generally a piss poor way of keeping your head down, but he knew with the snow was blowing and the wind was whipping and swirling outside, that there'd be no way in hell for those walkers to pick up where the smoke would be coming from. More to the point though, there was just no possibility of them staying in a house that was already _this_ drafty and cold before the sun had even gone down, without a few flames to take off the worst of the chill. Otherwise they'd freeze to death. Especially given how they had on all these wet clothes too. Like right now he was wearing two damp flannels under his vest, and Carol was layered up in a tank and a long sleeved T, with a heavy wool zip up sweater covering over everything else.

The sweater was clearly soaked all the way through from the snow.

Which meant that her t-shirt had to at least be damp too, because he could see her shivering in the chilled air. Still, for a second she didn't react to what he'd said about her going to lay down and getting off her wet clothes. All she was doing instead was staring over at him, lookin' for all the world like she was about to fall flat on her face. And feeling a little tickle of fear in his gut that she might just actually do that, he was just about to ask if she was okay, when he saw her take a breath and straighten up. Then the corners of her tired eyes crinkled and she gave him a little nod . . . almost like she'd heard the question he hadn't asked . . . right before she finally started over towards the bed.

She was unzipping the sweater while she walked.

And really thank God she seemed to get that extra wind, because for one scary second, he'd had been afraid she was on the verge of passing out on him. Of course he knew she'd been exhausted before they'd even started this afternoon's run, because these days the whole group was pretty much exhausted all the damn time. Hell, even as he started walking over to gather up the small stack of magazines from the bookshelf to make a fire, Daryl had to take another breath himself. But that was because it'd been so long since he'd caught more than a few hours of sleep at a stretch, that he honestly couldn't remember a point in his life when his eyes didn't feel sore and gritty, and his head didn't hurt.

It had just become the way of things.

The reason for that though was a series of real bad luck. Not just that they'd been run off the farm and been forced onto the road, but more particularly, about three, four weeks back, somehow they'd wandered into a really bad area of the state. No matter which way they tried to go, walkers kept popping up all over the place and cutting 'em off. And these weren't only the usual random stragglers they'd come to expect to find anywhere people had lived. No, these were real _packs_ of dead people, roaming around like wild dogs. Then beyond the packs . . . there were the herds. And maybe in their prime his group could've taken out a pack, but _nobody_ had ever taken out a herd.

It just couldn't be done.

And given how they were all half-starved and running on fumes, not to mention Lori's not so delicate condition, they didn't even have it in them to try and make a stand anymore with the smaller groups of walkers either.

All they did was run.

It didn't feel good, but as he walked over to the fireplace in that chilly upstairs bedroom that a well to do person had once lived in, Daryl knew that all their running was better than bein' dead, so he'd learned to push down his pride and accept things the way they were. The way things were though, with the cold and the tired and their bellies rumbling all the time, it was honest to God just the world's way of killin' them by degrees. It wasn't until the other day though, when Beth had suddenly passed out, out of the blue, and smacked her head against the car door before Glenn caught her falling to the ground, that Rick had finally accepted they needed to hunker down somewhere for a few days of real rest, before they _all_ started dropping like flies. Even then, it still took some time before they'd found a good place to hole up. And that place ended up being this little town they were in right now.

Aldora, it was called.

It was a tiny, tiny speck on the map, just buried in the trees. That's why they'd chose it. And the sign on the outskirts had confirmed their hopes that not many people would have lived there. Apparently it had only been a population of a hundred and three as of 2005, and that was real good for them 'cuz they knew by the percentages they'd learned elsewhere, at least half of those hundred and three folks would've either fled for a shelter up front or died off early on from the flu, and then most likely those walkers would have been killed again by the few remaining survivors, who then (very likely) would've bugged out as soon as the food started to dwindle. Their 'educated' theory on that point, seemed to be proved true when they were driving through the small grid of streets there earlier in the afternoon.

The whole town . . . though it looked like it had once been a real nice place to live . . . really did seem to be a land of ghosts now.

There were definitely no living people moving around that was for sure, and from what they'd seen at the time, no dead ones neither. There were some grey, meaty skeletons, and other scattered bits of bodies rotting away in the streets and the yards, but it was clear those people had all died off a very long time ago.

Maybe even as far back as the beginning of the turn.

So with the town fittin' the half assed specs they'd pulled together . . . small, isolated, and empty . . . Rick had picked them out a big house, (another fancy one like this with already boarded up windows), on the far edge of the small neighborhood where he and Carol were currently trapped. And once the full group had done the sweep to make sure their chosen sanctuary was clear of past or present owners, knowing from the grey sky and the bite in the air, that the weather was about to turn bad, he and Carol had gone off on a food scavenge in one direction, while Glenn and Maggie had gone off in another.

The others had stayed behind to reinforce the barricades that were already in place.

The plan was for everyone to meet up again when the sun started to set, or the snow started to fall. Which was just what he and Carol been trying to do . . . get back to the group . . . right before everything went to shit. And now, as he flipped open the flue, and pulled his lighter from his pocket, Daryl was just praying to God that the others were all safe and sound, and would stay so until this herd was gone. Because they'd all been together too long now . . . near seven months if he was keeping good track of the seasons . . . to be losing each other on a simple scavenge run like this.

That'd be a God damn pointless tragedy.

And as he finally stooped down, and set the flame to the crumpled up pile of papers in front of him, he could hear Carol smothering a cough. So once he'd given a few puffs on the little spark so it would catch a real flame, he finally straightened up and stepped back.

For a second he just watched the edges of the papers curl into themselves as they turned first to orange, then to ash, while the small twirls of smoke spiraled up and into the chimney above. That's when he picked up the small wooden stepstool a few feet away and quickly snapped off the four chunky legs . . . he placed three of them into the pile of burning paper. Once the legs had started to smoke too, he knew the fire had caught enough to sustain on its own for a bit, so that's when he finally turned around to see that Carol had stripped off her wet sweater, and was now lying down on her side, on top of the covers. She looked small and cold.

And she was scrubbing her hand across her mouth.

As their eyes caught across the room, in that warm light from the fire, he saw her wince and then murmur into her half closed fist, "do you think everyone else is okay?"

There was a crackle of pain in her voice, one that made his heart hurt. Because her being in pain, physical or otherwise, was not something he could stand. So to try and make her feel better, he answered her quickly, and with a sharp nod.

"Yeah," his lip quirked up slightly, "actually I think odds are good everyone's just fine. 'Cuz if you or me had stumbled out into that herd, we know it would've been a hell of a feeding frenzy there in the street. And I didn't see or hear anything like that goin' on when we was stuck out there, so unless something happens to give us reason to believe otherwise, I'm gonna say everybody took cover in time, and now they're all hunkered in with their heads down just like us."

Seeing how Carol let out a breath at his words, made his own heart feel a little lighter. She gave him a faint, relieved, smile.

"Thank you," she whispered, "that makes me feel better."

Then she unfolded her arm and reached out to pat the empty side of the bed.

"So now would you _please_ come lie down here with me?" She continued on with a pleading look, "because the door's blocked, and the fire's going, so you keeping a standing watch is just wasting your energy. And with all the heavy lifting you've been doing lately for the group, you probably need a good rest even more than I do."

Daryl let out a notable snort to that comment even as he started to walk back across the thick carpeting . . . his boots were sinking in.

"Pfft," he started at her with huff, "that's a good one, given how you two minutes ago _you_ were the one who almost fell flat on her face. And besides that," his expression softened as he leaned over to pick up the faintly dusty afghan folded up on the end of the bed . . . he gave it a shake, "you're so skinny now if you don't get some real sleep tonight, you ain't gonna have the energy to run anymore. Really," he continued on while turning back to give her a look, "if you don't start gettin' more food into ya, you ain't going to even have the energy to walk."

Carol's lips twisted then into a sad smile, right before she whispered, "but we don't have more food to put into me."

"We'll find something," he answered with a sigh, as he moved to start tucking her in under the blanket, "even if I gotta dig half frozen grubs out of the trees, at least it'd be extra calories for you."

Seeing Carol's nose wrinkle up at that idea, he paused then with his hand on her shoulder, as the corner of his mouth twitched.

"I know they don't sound good," he continued softly, "but they don't taste so bad like you'd think. So we'll fry 'em up and you can pretend they're something else."

"Something besides bugs," she answered back on a huff. And he let his hand fall down from where it had settled, to catch her fingers now poking out from beneath the afghan.

"Yeah," his voice faded as he slumped down against the side of the bed and slid to the carpet, "something besides bugs."

It killed him not being able to provide for her and the others like he used to be able to. Because startin' from day one back at the quarry, that had been _his_ job, being the guy that brought back a hunt every night. Even it was only a couple of squirrels or rabbits a day, at least that was one hot meal everybody got. It'd been weeks though since he'd spotted a rabbit or a squirrel anywhere. It was the damn weather, he thought with a scowl, because most of the decent game had gone to ground. Beyond that though, until today they really hadn't taken a break long enough anywhere for him to go out and see what other game was even left. All he'd been able to snag up were things that ran across their path. So that was a few birds that were mostly feathers, a couple of woodchucks that Beth cried while she ate, an owl that had made Carol terribly sad, and then last week there'd been the possum.

Lori had gagged the whole time she was choking down her piece.

The worst part though, was how even while she was gagging, she kept apologizin' too, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's just the pregnancy hormones making me nauseous. It's good Daryl, really. Thank you." Over and over she kept saying that, until he finally just had to ask her to stop. That's when everybody had got real quiet. But then Carol had reached over to squeeze his fingers, right before she'd made a point of using her free hand to pop another bite of that crispy possum meat into her mouth. Yeah, of course it was a shit meal, and unappetizing as hell no matter how much she'd tried to pretend for him that it wasn't.

But he did love her just for playin' pretend.

He'd grown to love her for a lot of reasons, but that right there was a big one, what with how it seemed like she was always on his side now, no matter what the cause. If he had so much as even a slightly cross word with anyone, she was right there stepping in to touch his arm or his back, tryin' to sooth his temper. Like she just wanted him to know that she was there . . . and that she was with him.

It worked too.

The way he felt about her, he'd never felt that way about anyone else before. And all he wanted from life was for her to be safe and warm, and to have a full belly. It was so hard these days though, to get even one of those things crossed off the list. Yeah, everything he'd been findin' for them all was technically food . . . and it was really all that was keeping them moving . . . but eating what they were eating still wasn't right.

It just felt like he was feedin' them all road kill.

And Christ knew with Lori growing that little baby, she needed to be eating better than trash you'd run over and then drag off into the woods. Hell, they _all_ needed to be eatin' better than that, but her especially. The only thing that might save her little one from coming out with real problems, was that they'd still been getting good and proper meals at the farm for those first couple months of her pregnancy. Carol had told him that was the most important thing for the baby to grow right, was to get proper nutrition for that first trimester. Then after that, the baby would be stronger and it would just keep taking its vitamins from Lori's body, so she just needed to keep calories going in to keep that baby growing. Which meant . . . again, according to Carol . . . that no matter what he caught for dinner, it was all good. And he wanted so bad to believe her about that, even though he knew that maybe she was fudging things a bit just to make him feel better about the possum meat. But when she'd said it, she'd given him one of those soft smiles of hers that always made him feel better anyway. So he'd decided to believe she was telling him the truth.

Or maybe it was just easier to believe the lie.

Either way, they'd know in another month or two if that baby was okay or not. And if it wasn't . . . he bit his lip . . . well they'd deal with that then.

It was just then when Daryl was about to inch over to snatch up the supply bag to dig out something for _tonight's_ dinner . . . he thinking probably the Pop Tarts would be best . . . that he felt Carol giving his shoulder a rub, and he turned his head to see her other hand had also slinked out from under the blanket.

"Daryl, please come up here," she whispered with a pat to the comforter, "we never have a good bed to lay on, and it's a lot warmer than the floor too."

Though her points were good ones . . . they never slept in the bedrooms of the houses they squatted in, they always just piled together and slept on the living room floor . . . all he did was murmur back a, "naw, I'm fine here for now," as he brought his hand up to start biting on his thumb nail. It wasn't that he didn't want to lay down with her, because God knew he'd love to finally cuddle up with her, and in real private no less . . . privacy being something else they'd lost with the farm . . . but he couldn't make that move just yet. Because he was afraid if he laid down on a nice soft bed, with a nice soft girl, that he might fall right to sleep, and he needed to stay awake. Not just to get her dinner, and maybe go snooping around in that closet to see if he could find her a warm jacket for this weather, but mostly he had to stay up to make sure those walkers that they'd left at the front door, hadn't found a way to break inside. But he figured an hour should be more than long enough time for them to get in if they were coming in. So if that hour _passed_ and he didn't hear no dragging steps in the hall, or dead people nails scratching at the bedroom door, then odds were good they'd be safe there until morning.

God willing.

So to keep himself alert for the next fifty plus minutes, he refocused his attention on getting the supply bag off the end of the bed. That's when he heard Carol coughing again.

His head immediately swiveled around at that, and picking up even in the flickering shadows that there were tears in her eyes, he reached out to cup her cheek.

"You all right, sweetheart?"

The sweetheart slipped out without him even thinking about it, and then he forgot he even said it when he felt the warmth coming off of Carol's cheek . . . his eyes widened. Because as he looked at her shivering there under the blanket, he realized that might not just be cold that he was seeing.

That could maybe be a fever.

And when he suddenly flashed on what had happened to her the day before, he felt a real, genuine stab of fear in his chest. So even while he was leaping to his feet, he was bringing his free hand up to press the back of it against her forehead.

"You're sure you didn't get scratched by that walker yesterday, right?" He hissed as his hand fell from her cheek, so he could reach over and pull back the blanket he'd just covered her up with.

He began to run his fingers down her side.

"That one by the side of the road when you and Lori were peeing," there was now a breathy panic undercutting his words, "you said he got a handful of your jacket, and you know sometimes they got long nails."

"But it ONLY got my jacket," Carol choked back as Daryl started to pull her up from the bed . . . him freaking out was starting to freak her out, "that's it, Daryl! And I let him have it and I grabbed Lori, and we ran. That's why I'm so cold," her fingers curled into a fist at her stomach, "it's because I lost that extra layer that kept off the damp."

Realizing that what Carol said made sense, Daryl let out a slow, tight breath as his hand stilled on her side. He tried to push that clawing panic back down deep again. Because thinking about with a less crazed brain, he knew it was possible his thoughts had jumped from her shivers and warm skin, to the worst case scenario . . . that somehow she'd got infected . . . because it was _her_ , and she was the one he couldn't lose. For months now, every time he saw a walker anywhere near this woman, in his head he'd scream, "GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER!" even as he was pushing her out of the way.

If anybody ever got bit it was gonna be him not her.

In the now though, they still needed to settle this once and for all. So he reached out to touch Carol's cheek again, trying to tell himself that flush to her skin really was his imagination . . . but he was wrong. Because she _was_ warm, definitely warmer than normal. Not burning up, thank God, but something was off. His hand fell away from her cheek.

He reached out to catch her fingers instead.

"It does feel like you could be running a little fever," he started speaking again, now with a much calmer tone than before, "and maybe all it is, is you just caught a bug," he shrugged, "or maybe your body's just trying to get your temperature reset after being so cold and wet. It really is probably just one of those nothing things, but still," he bit his lip, "will you please let me check and make sure there's no scratch on your back?"

His voice faded there at the end. And for a moment Carol just stared up at him, and he could see from the fear in her eyes as her jaw quivered, that he was scaring the hell out of her. And he hated that, but he had to know for sure that there was nothing wrong with her. Because again, as long as she was okay . . . he sucked in shallow breath . . . then he was okay. But if she wasn't okay then he didn't know what the hell he was gonna do with himself.

For now though he put that thought aside as he waited, watching while she blinked away her tears and took a deep breath.

"All right," she sniffled after another moment, "you can check. But," her voice started to thicken,  
"I didn't get scratched, Daryl. That walker didn't get me. I'm sure it's just that I'm run down is all. No sleep, no food, it was bound to happen."

"Yeah," he nodded slowly, "that's probably all it is, is nothing." Then he gave her a faint, sad, smile, "but you know I need to make sure you're okay."

"Yeah," Carol bit her lip as a tear spilled over and slid down her cheek, "yeah, I know you do."

And that was the bitch of it. Because she knew that in the reverse, if she thought for even a second that Daryl was running a fever, she'd be freaking out until they'd ruled out the worst thing too. So with that, she reached down with both hands and twisted to yank both her threadbare cotton tank, and recently gathered cotton T, up over her head. Then in just her too thin bra, she turned around so Daryl could see her back.

"Nothing there, right?"

Though she was positive that she hadn't been scratched by that walker in the trees . . . it had been a day and a half since that run- in, so the fever would have been burning her out from the inside by now if she'd actually been scratched and infected . . . the fear was still evident in her voice.

That fear wasn't helped by the fact that Daryl didn't answer her question immediately.

Though she could feel his fingertips had started to slowly brush across her skin . . . the sensation made her breath catch. Then he had one hand on her hip.

The other hand had stilled on her lower back.

"You need to loosen your belt," he murmured tightly. And now suddenly TERRIFIED that he'd seen something bad, she quickly fumbled to get the notch to get the belt undone. And that fear was the only thing making her fumble.

That was all.

It was the thing she kept telling herself as she felt Daryl pulling now with both hands at the waistband of her pants, tugging them down until they were riding low on her hips. Even though they were still buttoned and zipped, she'd lost so much weight that her belt was basically the only thing keeping her pants from falling to her ankles. Finally she felt his warm palm settle down in the middle of her back. She closed her eyes.

Because no matter the reason, having his hands on her like that felt so good!

"Walker didn't get you," he finally whispered while brushing the thumb of his other hand down low on the left, basically on the curve on her backside, "but something else did. Looks like a chigger probably. It's all red and bumpy around the bite, so that explains why you're running warm."

"A chigger bite," Carol repeated back now with a fresh touch of alarm as she twisted to try to look over her shoulder . . . though of course she couldn't see anything, "am I going to get sick?!"

"Naw," he hummed, now with noticeably less tension in his voice, "it'll be all right. Usually they're no worse than a mosquito bite, it just seems like you had a bad reaction to it is all. And it's probably 'cuz you feel so lousy anyway that you didn't even pick up on it. But tomorrow I'll find some leaves and we can make a paste. And if we can find some Benadryl, or that cream, like that cortisone stuff, that should help too."

Then he slowly turned her around again so he could catch her eyes in the bouncing firelight.

"Those things are both pretty common," he continued on while reaching out to take the shirt from where it was dangling from her fingertips, "so odds are good one of the houses around here should have those things in the medicine cabinet. You'll be fine in a day or so."

That's when he stopped talking to give her a shirt a good shake. And after he'd fixed the sleeve of the T where it was twisted up, he turned back around.

"Arms up," Daryl murmured, and Carol obeyed without even thinking about it. So he slipped the heavy cotton down over her head, and her balled up fingers. Basically she was letting him dress her like she was a child.

Like she had dressed Sophia long ago.

That thought made her eyes fill again. Of course they always started to water when she unexpectedly flashed on a memory of her baby girl. And even in the fading light, Daryl must have noticed that moisture pooling, because after he fixed her shirt, he paused with his palm gently cradling her elbow.

"Why you crying?" He whispered while tipping his head down to catch her eyes.

She sniffled and blinked and shook her head.

"I just," she swallowed, "I just remembered something is all."

For a moment he stared at her with this really sad look on his face, like maybe he knew she was thinking about Sophia.

And now maybe he might have been thinking about Sophia too.

That look on his face only lasted a moment though, before he blinked and shook his head like he knew they didn't have time for that right now. Then he went on to fixing her pants back up over hips and tightening her belt again. It was such an intimate thing to do, what with how he was touching her like he knew that she was his . . . and of course if asked she'd confirm that she was . . . that it was enough to push off her sadness.

Butterflies started to swirl in her stomach.

Unfortunately his touch didn't linger though. It wasn't really sexual either, because all of his focus seemed to be on just getting her covered up.

It was more of him looking after her.

Because once he'd fixed her t-shirt hem down over her belt, he walked over and picked up the fuzzy green afghan again. After he gave it a snap to shake it out, he came back and stepped in close so he could wrap the soft cloth around her shoulders. Then he crossed the ends over in the front, and tied them together in a loose knot so the blanket was hanging off her like a cape.

It was warm and soft, and somehow him doing such a simple, sweet thing like that, made her eyes fill again. And so she found herself sniffling out a, "thanks," as she brought the back of her hand up to catch another rogue tear that had started to slide down her face.

Her watery eyes fell to the floor.

A moment of quiet passed between them where all she could hear was the fire crackling and the wind blowing. And she was about to take a step back towards the bed, when to her absolute shock . . . and joy . . . Daryl reached out and slipped his arm around her shoulders.

He pulled her over to his chest.

He'd never done that before. Hug her, that is. It had barely been a month now since they'd started holding hands. And that had been something initiated by her one day after she'd been particularly shaken about a bad run-in she'd had with a walker. That had been back when she was first learning to use the knife and she was still a bit clumsy and unsure of herself. So later that night, in the quiet kitchen of whatever abandoned house the group had been hiding in, after they'd talked things over, Daryl had shown her what to do different the next time, so that the next time she could move faster and smarter, and not come so close to being bit.

Twice Daryl had her come at him with the sheathed blade, and twice he'd caught her wrist and chomped his teeth, before she'd gotten anywhere close to his ear. The third time though, she ducked left, and came up fast on his right to give him hard shove . . . hard enough to stagger him to a step to the left . . . just as she went in for the kill.

She got him that time.

And he was so proud of her for that, he'd given her one of those crooked grins and told her that she'd done real good. So afterwards, when they were walking out of the kitchen and back out to the main room where everyone was huddled around the small fire, on an impulse she'd asked him if she could hold his hand. At first he'd seemed a little confused by her request, but she was sure that was because such a display of simple affection would have been completely foreign to him growing up in the Dixon home. It had only taken a moment for him to agree though. Then from there, holding hands became normal for them. And after a few weeks, Daryl had even moved on to the occasional brush of his fingers along her cheek. Generally that was under the cover of him seeing if she was cold, but in those instances where he did touch her face . . . _that_ touch had always lingered. Until now though, he'd never wrapped her up tight, and pulled her into a real embrace before. The closest they'd come to full body contact since the day Sophia died for the second time, was when he'd lie down beside her at night. Mostly their group slept sort of in a circle, for both warmth and protection. Rick always slept on the end closest to the door, and at first Daryl had laid down his pack a few feet away. And with Lori having so many problems with both Rick and Carl, Carol had always slept next to her friend for support, but after the hand holding had started, it had only taken a little extra encouragement from her for Daryl to feel welcome to settle in on her other side. And though he always slept close enough to share some of his warmth, the only part of them that actually touched was their fingers.

He'd curl them together under her blanket.

Tonight though, after he'd pulled her close and her body settled against his, he tucked her head under his chin. But he didn't say anything. Instead he just held her there in his arms as he slowly rubbed his hand up and down her back, while his fingertips tickled along her spine. Whether he was trying to sooth her fears or just keep her warm, she wasn't quite sure. Either way, being held like that, it made her want to start crying again.

Though at least that time they were happy tears.

Happy never lasted though. Because after another moment, she felt a fresh stab of grief in her chest at all they'd had to lose just to bring them to that moment. That's when she nuzzled her cheek against his shirt, and buried her face in the curve of his throat. Because she figured what the hell. They were already in for a penny.

She'd see how he reacted to a pound.

Thank God he didn't shy away from the nuzzle though. Instead he just let out a heavy breath, while continuing to gently rub her back. "We'll be all right," he whispered after a moment, "we will. 'Cuz we won't be on the road forever. We'll find a new home soon. And Lori'll have the baby, and we'll all start again."

For a moment she was quiet before she let out on a sniffle.

"I know that," she started to whisper, "I do. It's just that some days I'm so tired," she tipped her head back to catch his eyes, "that it's hard to believe we ever lived any way but this. And that's crazy," her voice started to creep up a pitch, "because I spent FORTY years living in civilization, and now that's all just . . ." she brought her hand up to give a haphazard wave to the dusty room around them, "an echo."

A few seconds passed then where Daryl didn't say anything, he just stared down at her with his jaw twisting, and his fingertips gently pressing into her sides. Finally he took a deep breath.

"Could be worse than the echo though," he answered hesitantly, "right? I mean," he winced, "I know how much you miss a world with Sophia in it, and that's never gonna be okay that she's gone, but," he swallowed, "at least we ain't out here all alone at the end. Because we do have um, uh . . ."

And when he started to trail off, with his gaze falling to the carpet, she finished his thought.

"We have each other."

His eyes immediately snapped back to hers. She could see the fear in them . . . but relief too. Maybe for saying the words that he couldn't quite get out. So on an impulse that she couldn't resist, she popped up on the tiptoes of her boots, slanted her head . . . and brushed her lips against his.

Her first thought was that his were a little rough and chapped, but she knew that hers were the same. And when he didn't immediately jerk his head away in horror, which was really her greatest fear then . . . total abject humiliation . . . she let her palm settle on his chest. Right over his heart.

She could feel it pounding away.

And after a second he finally started kissing her back, so let out a little hum right before she opened her mouth to nibble on his lower lip. That time she did feel him freeze up, but the resistance only lasted for second before he opened his mouth too. Then their tongues were tangling together. And though what happened next might have been a little sloppy and desperate, she was chalking that up to them both being woefully out of practice at these things. Still, she didn't want to stop to get a better angle, or even to take a breath. Of course finally her lungs started to hurt, and she had to pull away with a gasp . . . Daryl's hands immediately fell from her hips. She could see that he had a look of breathless shock on his face.

Then he took a step back.

And seeing him rubbing his hand across his mouth, she knew that his head was trying to catch up to what had just happened. So she reached over to touch his chest.

A faint, nervous smile, ghosted over her lips.

"Are we okay?" She asked on a swallow. And he immediately jerked his head as his brow darkened slightly.

"Course we are," he answered with a blink and a hard swallow of his own, "I just wasn't expecting that is all. I mean uh," he waved his hand a bit as a slight flush touched his cheeks, "not right now."

It was obvious that he was flustered by what had happened. Though knowing him as she did now, Carol also knew there would never have been a time in his life when Daryl Dixon had been a smooth talking ladies' man. Which meant that on _her_ side, she needed to lighten things up before he actually got uncomfortable by this step forward. Her eyes crinkled as she bit down on her still swollen lip . . . she could taste him there.

"Do you think maybe we could add kissing in as a regular thing now?"

Her question came with a hopeful smile. Still, for a second he just looked down at her . . . then he gave a slow nod.

"Hmm, yeah," he hummed now with that color in his cheeks deepening as his free hand curled into a tight fist, "yeah, that'd be all right by me."

That agreement was enough to bring more happy tears to her eyes. Though she was quick to blink them away before he misinterpreted them as her being upset about what had happened. And after another moment of him just staring at her, his brow knitted together.

"Did I do it all right though?" he whispered, "because you know I ain't kissed a girl in a while so I might've been a bit um," he swallowed, "rusty."

The embarrassment was so clear in his voice that Carol felt a fresh ache for the sweet, insecure man buried in there under all that hard gruff and grumble of the badass everyone else saw. So she stepped forward and reached up to touch his cheek. She brushed her thumb along his lower lip.

"I was a little rusty too," she whispered back with a soft smile, "but I still think it was perfect for a first kiss. And you know the more we practice," her eyes crinkled, "the better we'll get."

Seeing his color blossom to a deep pink as the smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, Carol knew that her answer had pleased him. So she took another step forward, and tucked her head down against his chest again. Once more he immediately folded her back into his arms.

That made her so happy.

Because at least she knew for sure then that whatever insecurities he might have been feeling about the kiss, weren't going to drive him to slow things down again. But after he held her for a moment, he let out a heavy sigh and patted her back.

"You need to eat."

Her eyes crinkled when she tipped her head back.

"You got some bugs for me?"

And he let out a soft chuckle as he brought he let one of his hands fall down from her back to her waist.

"I was thinking Pop Tarts for tonight," he huffed while giving her a little nudge towards the bed, "we'll save the good stuff for tomorrow."

Hearing Carol let out a little giggle at that as she caught his fingers, Daryl couldn't stop himself from leaning down to press a quick kiss to her cheek. Because really he was just feeling so God damn happy then that he could have burst. All he'd been wantin' for weeks now was to find the right time . . . and the damn balls . . . to up and kiss this woman, and here she'd read his mind. And somehow he'd done it well enough, that she said they could do it again! All the damn time if they wanted to! A faint smile crossed his lips as he helped her back up onto the bed.

 _Thank God for that._

* * *

 _A/N 2: I have like five more pages already written out here and I had planned to just wrap up the story at the end of those five pages, (I have my closing line) but I kept getting other ideas to fold in. Not 'extended plot point' ideas, just little things and so when I was proofing I decided I didn't want to rush it to a close when there are maybe one or two more pages to add in beyond what I already have, to make it a fuller scene. Because I do like writing them in this world. They're a close alignment with canon, but at the same time it's just a slight twist. Not even really that much of a twist though because the first night at the prison when they were flirting on the bus, that scene would easily fit in this world with them taking things slow and him trying to make her feel better with the backrub but then he kind of gets embarrassed because he realizes what he's doing is sort of a romantic thing and romance is just not something in his wheelhouse :) Then when she sees that he's starting to feel awkward, she teases him to make it okay again. That's them here too, and my other story in this universe takes place about six months later, so I'll probably come back to this world again at some point and cover them on another random day. It's a good place to put canon twists for the later seasons that don't fit into my 'evolving ZA' AUs._

 _That's all folks. I hope you liked it, and next update will likely be over in This Is Now. I have a nice fat draft there :)_


	3. Practice Makes Perfect

**Author's Note** : The conclusion. A pretty direct pickup from the last chapter.

* * *

 **Practice Makes Perfect**

Once Daryl had Carol back up on the mattress, though now with her sittin' cross-legged rather than lying down like before, he gave her fingers a quick squeeze before he moved on to the main task at hand. And that task of course was gettin' their dinner. So he stooped down to pick up the supply bag from where it had fallen to the carpet, and from there it only took a second of poking through the half dozen or so dusty boxes and cans inside (it'd been a pretty decent haul of food they'd scavenged over just the few hours that afternoon), before he pulled out what he was looking for . . . the Frosted Blueberry Pop Tarts.

That was an A list find.

'Cuz not only was it an unopened box, but the things weren't even expired yet, and it was hard to find anything packed in cardboard now that wasn't stale. Apparently though, Pop Tarts had a good shelf life. These ones had been in the back of the pantry in the house next door, lying on the floor behind a mop bucket. Probably they'd been dropped by somebody else out scrounging, which was all the better for them getting somebody else's treat. So in the darkening shadows Daryl pulled out one thin silvery pack, before he sealed the box up and tucked it away to share with the others when they got back to them tomorrow.

The bag he dropped to the floor.

He was tearing open the corner of the package as he sat down on the edge of the bed. And seeing how Carol was watching his fingers, his eyebrow quirked up.

"You want a drink with it?"

The question was asked as he slid the first pop tart out of the crinkly paper and started to hand it over. But she just gave him back a little smile and a shake of her head.

"No thanks," Carol murmured while taking the slightly crumbly pastry from Daryl's hand, "not yet. The house is so cold and dry we should save it in case we get really thirsty later. Though," her eyes shifted over to the white splatters sticking to the glass behind the curtain sheers, "maybe we could refill the canteen if we gathered up some snow, and let that melt inside."

"Yeah," Daryl nodded slowly, "yeah, we can definitely do that, but not 'til morning. I don't want to open the window until we can be sure that herd's long gone."

Then with his own Pop Tart now in hand, and watching how Carol's face brightened when she took her first bite . . . even if it was a small portion, they hadn't had anything good to eat like this in a _long_ time . . . he made a half gesture off to the few flames still flickering in the soot covered fireplace.

"You think you're gonna be warm enough tonight?"

Feeling a little tickle of amusement, Carol's eyes crinkled.

"Yeah," she answered while swallowing down her bite, "I think I'll be warm enough. But only," she gave him a look, "if _somebody_ will cuddle up to keep me warm enough."

This would be the first night they had the privacy to for real snuggling like that, and it would be foolish to not take advantage. Though she could see with how Daryl's mouth was quivering, that their thoughts on that point at least seemed to be on the same page.

Then he reached out to brush a crumb off her lower lip, as he whispered, "I think somebody could probably do that."

As Daryl shot Carol a wink, and she immediately shot him a little grin back, and again he felt that same warmth in his chest that he'd felt right after they'd kissed. Like the closer they got, the less dark the world seemed. She was his little bit of light

And God only knew what he'd do if she was taken away from.

The alternative wasn't even something he let himself consider much anymore, because he'd passed the point where there was any helpful thinkin' to be pulled from there. All he needed to do was keep her safe, and keep training her on the guns and the knives and anything else he could think that might one day save her life, and that was that. For the first time ever, he actually had a purpose to his being. It was a worthy one too, keeping a person like Carol alive in this world. She was sweet and kind and so smart . . . and the world had already lost too many of those people.

The ones they needed if there was any hope to rebuild a future.

There was a part of him that wanted to tell her that, to tell her all this stuff in his head. How he felt about her, how she made him feel about himself . . . like he had value and things to offer, but he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to say those things out loud. That was all heavy, feeling type stuff, and talking like that just wasn't his way. So instead of trying to tell her anything, they just ate the rest of their small, though tasty, dinner in quiet. It was an amiable quiet though, like it always was when they were alone together. But once their bellies were probably about quarter full . . . a single Pop Tart each didn't take up much space but they couldn't risk eating more when those supplies needed to be portioned out for their whole group of ten . . . Daryl took the knife from his belt, and tucked it under the pillow. Then he leaned over, stretching slightly, to pick up his bow and Carol's rifle down from the end of the bed.

He placed his gun on her other side, and the bow down next to him on the floor.

After their weapons were lined up as close as possible for the, ' _just in case everything goes to shit while we're sleeping_ ,' moments that kept them in a state of pretty much constant anxiety, he finally pulled his legs up, and shifted around so that he was laying out flat on his back. The fingers of his right hand were curled up in a loose fist on his stomach.

His left arm was bent and tucked under his head like an extra pillow.

Of course for so many of these months, that curled up arm had been the literally the only pillow he had, so he did what he did by habit. Tonight though that habit was a lucky thing, because he hadn't actually figured yet how to make that move to cuddle up like Carol had suggested. It was just that cuddling wasn't something really he had any experience doing and he didn't want to be awkward about it. He rolled his eyes.

He'd been awkward enough with that kiss.

Fortunately though once he was settled, it only took a second . . . and one deep breath on Carol's part . . . before she inched over to put her head on his chest. And even if he was expecting it, still for a second he stiffened up then, kind of like he did when she'd started nibbling on his lip. But just like with the start of that _good_ kissing, all he had to do was remind himself that _THIS_ was what he wanted . . . to have Carol completely and for real, like Glenn did Maggie . . . and he just needed to ball up and get this romantic shit figured out. So even though this was the first time he'd done a real cuddle with a girl, after he took his own deep breath, he let his arm slowly unfold from behind his head, until he could slide it down and wrap it around Carol's shoulders.

That's when he felt her shift all the way into his side.

And that felt real good. Good enough for him to close his eyes for a second with a pang of grief when he realized how he'd probably missed out on a lot of good stuff in his old life, by never finding a girl to settle down with like most men did. The thing was though, he'd never been interested in anyone in the way that he was Carol. It was almost like he'd been waiting for her.

He just hadn't known it.

Now though, for the first time he was lying in a bed with a woman, and they weren't there just for a quick fuck. That's how it'd always been before, and for a long time it had never even occurred to him there was more to being with a woman than just getting off. Course that might've had something to do with the kind of women he'd hung out with. Now he had a good one though, and all of her nice, warm, soft bits were pressing right into him. It had actually been so long since he'd had sex . . . long enough for him to not wanna do the actual math . . . that the feel of her body alone was enough to make his dick start to twitch. Which was not good at all. They'd just had their first kiss for Christ's sakes, so they were definitely nowhere near ready to take that final step of being together! And that step sure as SHIT was never going to happen at all, if he creeped her out by getting a hard-on just lying there doing nothin' but cuddling up!

Even by his limited understandin' of women, he knew that would NOT go over well!

So to put an end to that twitching before it became a real embarrassment for both of them, he closed his eyes for another minute and just focused on some dead bodies. Lucky thing was, he had SO many images to call up from that box of nightmares, it only took a few seconds for him to push down that damn itch he was getting that was making him want to do something real stupid. But once everything was feeling all neutral again, and he was sure he could keep things that way, he decided to do something a little more bold. He slid the arm he had up around Carol's shoulders, all the way down until it was wrapped around her hips instead. She quickly turned into his side.

That's when he let his open hand curl there in a loose cup right above her lady parts.

They were close enough that he could feel the warmth there right beneath his fingertips. And it felt so much more like she was his then, just because he could touch her there where nobody else would be allowed to. Then he tipped his head down to rest on hers, because this might be the only night they'd be able to do any of this . . . every other night they'd have a damn audience . . . and if they weren't gonna have sex, he was still definitely going to get his money's worth out of the experience. And he could tell from the Carol nuzzled his throat, right before she let out a warm, soft sigh against his skin, that she was happy laying there with him like that.

Personally he was over the fucking moon.

So he closed his eyes and just tried to commit that feeling to a memory he could call up later when things were bad again. After a moment in the quiet though, he heard Carol whisper against his throat, "you don't suppose we could just stay here in this town for a while, do you?"

And knowing where she was coming from with that, with just how hard it had been living on the run these last months, and still with no end in sight, with his other hand he gave her fingers a gentle squeeze because he was goin' to have to let her down.

The important thing was to do it easy.

"I wish we could stay here, Carol," he murmured back with a kiss to her temple, "I do, but with such a small town you know there ain't going to be much left around to pick over for supplies, and with just planks on the windows, there's not much in the way of protection around here neither if another herd came through, or just," he bit his lip thinking back to Randall and his group, "those generally unfriendly types we need to avoid."

The last was his biggest concern really. The one that kept him constantly on edge. The worry that they would stumble across a group bigger than theirs, one filled with bad men who had more weapons, and they wouldn't be able to stop what would come next.

That nightmare had woke him up more than once.

Still, he couldn't steal that tiny sliver of hope of some peace from this woman who meant everything to him, without at least giving her something in return. So he rubbed his thumb along the outside of her wrist.

"If everybody makes out okay tonight," he continued on then in a slightly lighter tone, "and the herd clears the area, I'll talk to Rick tomorrow about maybe giving this town a week or so of our time. Not a forever home," he added quickly, less he start to get Carol's hopes up, "but just use it as a base camp for a bit. If we keep the boards up on the windows, and the cars maybe under some camouflage, everybody could finally get some real rest, while we plan our next move and finish doing a search of these houses. I mean best case," he gave her hip a pat, "this far out in the country, we might luck out and find a root cellar everybody else missed, right?"

"Yeah," Carol came back without even a pause, "right. And even if we didn't get that lucky, we already know that the whole town hasn't been completely picked over yet. I mean in one afternoon, we found enough food to feed all of us for probably four whole meals, so there's no telling what we might find tomorrow, let alone over a whole week."

Daryl grunted.

"That's a real good point," he said, "and that'll probably be the one that I use when I talk to Rick." Then he lifted his head up to catch her eyes. Once they shifted up to his, his lip quirked up.

"If doesn't go for it though I'm gonna tell him it was your idea."

Seeing Carol's mouth quiver, he shot her another wink, right before he settled back against the pillow again.

"Another twenty minutes," he hummed, his attention shifting now to the gap in the curtains and the snow plastering against the glass . . . the storm was really picking up, "then I'll be sure those walkers wandered off, and we can go to sleep."

As he felt Carol pat his chest just as she whispered, "'k, then we'll wait," he knew at least he'd have some company while he held watch.

Another minute of so passed with him just lightly tapping his fingers on her belly before he took a breath.

"You know if you want we could uh, try practicin' again."

The words were only a faint, hesitant, whisper, but still Carol immediately tipped her head back to look up at him. Though her eyes looked tired, he could see how happy they were too as she gave him a sharp nod.

"I'd like that."

So before he got too nervous again, because being nervous had been a big problem last time . . . though not having kissed a woman in a good two years probably didn't help neither . . . he quickly brought his hand up to cup her jaw while at the same time he tipped his head down to catch her lips.

And _that_ kiss, it went a LOT better than the first one.

This time not only did they have a better angle, but neither of them were so frantic either. Everything was soft and it was gentle, and when they opened their mouths he could taste the sweetness of not just Carol, but also the bit of blueberry Pop Tart still on her lips too.

It made him smile.

Of course then Carol mumbled, "what's so funny?" and he actually started to laugh and had to pull away, because of course something still had to go wrong with Take Two. Though as he saw how bright and happy Carol's face was when she looked up at him, 'wrong' didn't really seem to be the word to use. There was nothing wrong here. He brushed his thumb along her cheek.

Because everything was very much right.

Which was why, rather than answering her direct, he decided to just lean in and pop one more kiss on those warm, now slightly swollen, lips, because Carol was right . . . practice _was_ gonna make perfect. That time when he pulled away, it was with a faint grin.

"Didn't mean to laugh, I'd just been thinking how good you tasted with the blueberry frosting on your lips, so I had to go in for seconds."

Feeling a spot of warmth hit her cheeks, Carol's tongue popped out to the corner of her mouth as she let out a soft chuckle.

"Sorry," she huffed back, "guess I'm a messy eater."

And she saw Daryl's eyes crinkle right before he tipped his head down to nuzzle her cheek and whisper, "no complaints here."

That time the warmth Carol felt was in her chest, because dear God she just ADORED this man! So with him already leaning down, she just slipped her arm up and around his neck so she could hold him close for a second. There were a lot of things she wanted to say then, but she was afraid that she might say more than he was ready to hear. Or more particularly, maybe more than he was ready to say himself and that might make things awkward. So all she did was let out a soft sigh as she kissed his cheek.

"You make me very happy."

A moment later he pulled away, and she could see him biting his lip, like he was nervous. Before she could tell him that it was okay though, that she wasn't expecting him to say anything back, he brought his free hand up in a fist.

He tapped his chest.

Fresh tears filled her eyes then as she gave him back a little nod, and a teary smile. Because she understood that words were harder for him than they were for her. Still though, his gesture was clear.

He was telling her that she made him happy too.

So she let out a sniffle, and rolled her cheek back onto his chest. He cuddled her in close again. After a moment he cleared his throat and patted her hip.

"You should sleep now," he murmured, "'cuz there's no reason for us both to stay up any longer just to listen for noises that probably would've started if they were coming."

Though Daryl's point was a logical one, Carol still dismissed it outright with a shake of her head as her thumb stroked along the tiny V of bare skin where the layers of his shirt were open under his neck.

"It's still early," she whispered, "so I'll keep you company. Though," she patted his chest, "you do still need to get a blanket for sleeping."

Feeling a spark of amusement, Daryl let out a snort as his eyes shifted down to the top of Carol's head. And it was almost like she could feel that, 'cuz she immediately tipped her head back. And seeing the look she was giving him, he knew she was serious.

She wanted him to cover up for bed.

The last person who'd given a damn about him being tucked in warm under the covers was his momma . . . that had been about thirty-six years ago. It had literally taken that long to find another person on the planet who gave a crap about him. And realizing _that_ , was enough for his amusement to fade and for his eyes to burn. But then he quickly blinked and gave Carol a nod.

"'K," he whispered, "I'll get a blanket."

Seeing the soft smile she gave him then was enough for him to squeeze her fingers. After that, he let go so they could untangle, and he could roll over and drop his feet to the floor. For a second he just paused there with his hands on the bed, and his eyebrow twitching, because he'd thought he'd heard something.

And then he heard it again.

It was outside, thank God for that, but still . . . he stood up and started walking over to the back window . . . it was a strange enough sound that he needed to see if he could figure what the cause was.

He poked his head around the edge of the curtain.

Given how the sun how had now set, and there was only the faintest of faint light still reflecting down from the stormy sky, there was hardly nothing to even be able to see _by_ , but after he'd let his eyes adjust for a second, he spotted a growing cluster of walkers over in the snowy yard diagonally across from the back of the house. The light was too bad to see anything clearly, but the clean white snow helped to make out the contrasts pretty well. So outside of the circle of dead folks piled up in the white, he could make out some patches of dark splatter in the snow too. His jaw twitched.

Those spots had to be blood.

"Herd got something," he murmured tightly, still looking out the window. Then he heard Carol gasp.

"One of us?"

The strain in her voice made him wince, but that time he couldn't give a flat out "no way" like he had earlier. Instead he bit down on his lip and held up his finger behind his back.

"Give me a second," he muttered, his eyes tracking everywhere while he tried to figure what it was exactly those walkers were tearing up over there in the snow. Finally he caught site of what seemed to be a broken off leg . . . one with a lot of fur. He let out a heavy breath.

It was an animal leg. A big one.

He spun around.

"It's a bear," he called over to Carol, the relief clear from his tone, "they got a bear."

Carol's eyes popped.

"They got a _BEAR_?" She repeated in disbelief, "but, wha . . . how," she sputtered, "how is that possible? I mean, I know it's _possible_ but God!"

This far past the turn, nature had started taking things back. Animals that in the past who would have stayed deep in the woods had started moving more freely into the abandoned towns. Sometimes their group would be hunkered down in some house and get woken up by a mountain lion or another big cat outside there, howling in the middle of the night. It could be scary. So a bear wandering through this neighborhood wasn't all that surprising by itself, but just the idea that walkers, even a herd of them, could actually take one down, well _that_ , was pretty horrifying.

And as she looked over at Daryl rubbing his chin as he stared down at the rug, she had a feeling it was a point bothering him too.

"What's really strange," he muttered, his eyes shifting up to lock onto hers, "is that the bear was even out and about at all. I mean," he started across the room, "it should have been off to hibernate by now. Unless," his head wobbled, "well, I guess if it was starving like we are, maybe that's why it was still out roaming this late in the season." He shrugged, "that's really the only thing that makes sense."

"Well then maybe that herd did us a favor," she murmured back, watching now as Daryl continued over to the closet, "because if we'd walked out the door tomorrow and run into a starving bear wandering in the street, we probably would have been pretty screwed."

"This is true," Daryl agreed with a grunt as he slide open one half of the levered doors in front of him, "because based on the size of the furry leg I saw, the amount of ammo it would have taken to even slow that thing down would've wiped us out. And," he continued on talking over his shoulder while reaching up to the shelf above the half empty pole of hangers, "starving animals don't go down easy, so even using every bullet and arrow we had left, we still would've been lucky to get away without getting torn up, 'cuz those things can run a hell of a lot faster than we can."

That's when he turned back around, now with what looked like a heavy goose down quilt in his hands.

It was white.

"The thing that really sucks though," he finished on a sigh, "is that if we _could've_ taken it down, that bear would've fed us all for a week, so it's a waste no matter how you cut it. But anyway," he walked back to the bed, shaking the quilt out along the way, "it's dead now and it'll just be scattered bones by morning.

And with that, he climbed back onto to the mattress and with a flick of his wrists, covered himself and Carol over with the puffy white quilt. It seemed thin, but he knew with the feathers it'd be warm. And the second they were covered over, he had his arm up and Carol was right there snuggling in at his side like before. Though it was kind of funny how doing that _under_ the covers seemed like a bigger step than doing it on top of them. Either way he was thinking they needed to make this an all the time thing, because now that he'd had a taste of it, he didn't want to go back to sleeping alone.

Just holding hands side by side wasn't gonna cut it anymore.

Eh . . . he bit his lip . . . it was something to talk to Carol about tomorrow, because he wasn't looking to be greedy here. Tonight they'd got all this private time plus the kissing, and those were huge jumps for them . . . and they were enough for him. His jaw twisted.

At least enough for now.

And after he'd given it another minute or so of just stroking his thumb back and forth along the inside of Carol's wrist, he noted that the last of the faint grey he'd seen outside the glass only moments ago, was gone now.

He let out a heavy sigh.

"Think we're good on the walker front in here," he whispered, "so I'm ready to get some sleep if you are."

"I am most definitely ready to get some sleep," Carol yawned back. Then he felt her reach up and touch his cheek.

"Could we have one more kiss first, though?" she whispered, while brushing her thumb along his jaw, "because I think a good night one would be a nice tradition to add, don't you agree?"

His eyes crinkled as they shifted down to lock onto hers.

"Yeah," he murmured to her with a faint nod, "that would be nice."

It'd be something to look forward to at the end of each day, when most of their days now didn't have a lot to look forward to at all. So after they'd both shifted slightly and he'd got his hand on her hip again, Daryl tipped his head down. Then for the fourth time that night . . . their lips met.

And that kiss started off just as good as the last one, and then he did a light sweep of his tongue around her mouth, and it got even better. Because Carol had been right to start, he thought as she let out a happy little moan, practice was making things perfect for them. Because this was the first time he'd made the right move to get a moan out of her at all. And of course he made note of what that move was so he could do it again later, because what mattered here was finding out what she liked. And if they kept up the pace of their practicing, pretty soon he was gonna lose track on the number of all these kisses 'cuz there'd just be too many to count.

He really couldn't wait 'til that happened.

And a few seconds later when he pulled away with a final nibble on her lower lip, Carol looked up at him with such joy, it actually made his heart hurt a little bit to see it.

"Best one yet," she said with a watery grin, and he had to bring his hand up to hide his own smile then. And even though she didn't say anything, it was clear she could still see it. Because she reached up and brushed her thumb along his jaw while she looked at him with this soft expression until he finally let his hand fall away from his mouth. That's when she gave him a little nod and a wink.

"Don't stay awake too long," was all she said before she let out a little sigh and slid down and wrapped herself around his side again. Her lashes immediately fluttered shut.

For a second he stared down at that pretty face, all while feeling a burning in his eyes that he didn't quite understand . . . because he was happy, and he'd never felt like crying before 'cuz he was happy.

It was strange.

A good kind of strange though, he thought with a faint nod, because most of the feelings he felt for Carol were new to him. They were all good though. It was just that sometimes new was strange too . . . he let out a heavy sigh . . . that's all. What mattered the most was just that they were happy together.

The rest of this stuff he'd adjust to in time.

So from there Daryl let his eyes slowly fall shut. The next time he woke up it was 'cuz he was freezing his ass off, even though he was still covered over with a blanket, and that warm body was still curled up against him. But that warm body was shiverin' too. And it only took a few seconds of blinking in the now pitch black room, listening to the wind whipping through the rafters, to realize a lot of hours had passed since he'd fallen asleep, and the reason it was so dark now was 'cuz that small fire he'd built had finally gone totally out.

But that was to be expected.

Fortunately though, after spending so much of his life traipsing in the woods . . . plus of course the last six months living in the Stone Ages again . . . Daryl had a lot of experience moving around in the dark. So he just gave himself a few more seconds for his eyes to adjust to the different 'shades' of black in the room, before he carefully untangled Carol's limbs from his, and started to shimmy away from her.

As soon as he shifted to drop his feet to the floor though, he heard her sleepy mumble of, "did you hear something?" And he immediately leaned back, fumbling in the dark to catch her hand under the quilt.

"Naw," he whispered with a gentle squeeze of her fingers, "everything's fine. It's just the cold woke me up is all, so I'm gonna fix the fire again."

What he wouldn't give to get one 'roaring,' but given how there weren't any boards covering the upstairs windows, they couldn't risk that kind of bright light seeping around the edges of those curtains. So after he'd slipped a lighter from his pocket (going from house to house the way they did, that was one thing that'd been pretty easy to keep in stock), and had swiped his thumb to make the little flame come to life, he went over to the bookcase and leaned down to look at the titles.

It might have seemed a silly thing to do . . . to pick the right book to burn . . . but Carol and Lori had been real particular about that, burning books without good cause that is. So unless they were _truly_ desperate, they did try to avoid doing it whenever there was another paper supply around. In this instance though, he'd already used up those few old magazines, so a book was gonna be necessary. And after a minute he settled on a thick old Stephen King one with a vampire on the cover, because he had to figure anybody still alive in this world now, wasn't likely to be interested in reading about undead people coming back to eat the living. And he told Carol as much while he was carrying the book over to the fireplace. That's when he heard her let out a faint, sleepy chuckle in the dark right before she snorted, "good call there on that one, hon."

His heart did a little flutter then as he paused for just a brief second in the middle of the bedroom. Because she'd never called him, "hon," before. He'd never heard her call _anyone_ hon, before.

So it felt special that she did it with him now.

Though he had to figure she was probably half asleep, and didn't even realize what she'd said. And he didn't want to make a big deal out of it just in case she hadn't meant to say it right now.

And once he got the fire crackling again with half the pages of the vampire book and the rest of the chunks of the stepstool, he walked over and climbed back into bed. Carol immediately reached for him, so he wrapped her up in a tight hug for a few seconds because he just needed to do that. Finally though he loosened his hold and they settled together like normal, so he reached down to pull the blanket up and over both of them again. Then suddenly for some reason he felt bold, so he tipped his head down and pressed his lips to her ear.

"Good night, sweetheart."

The words were barely a whisper, and there was no response so he figured she'd fallen asleep again already. That was fine though, 'cuz he'd said the word more because he'd needed to say it, than because he'd needed for her to hear it. So he started to close his own eyes, when out of the blue he heard a sniffle, and then, "I thought I'd heard you wrong the first time."

And he froze.

Not because he'd got caught doing something he didn't want her to know that he'd done, but just 'cuz he realized then that she'd actually heard him call her 'sweetheart' earlier in the night too.

The time when it just slipped out without him even giving it a conscious thought.

But her sounding so happy that he'd said it again, was what he chose to focus on when he squeezed her fingers, and pressed his lips to her ear one more time.

"These are good tears now, right?"

"Yeah," she sniffed with a pat to his chest, "yeah, they're good tears. And I promise to stop crying so we can go to sleep."

Daryl huffed at that, right before he slid his arm back down around her hips again. Then he closed his eyes, and let out a soft sigh. Because there was one thing he was more sure about now than ever. They were going to find a new home soon. His jaw twitched.

 _They just had to._

* * *

 _A/N 2: And this is the end here, for now. Again, I enjoy this world and it's a good place to fold in ideas I get that don't fit as well into my AU stories, so we might eventually have a new story continuing on with them here during the week they're planning to spend in this little town, or we might pop in at a different point in the winter break. And if I ever feel like writing smut, there's always their first time in the prison laundry! But that's what I most enjoy about a series of random short stories like this (I had a similar approach for a universe for when I wrote over in Criminal Minds) because you can cover a larger arc in the relationship of the couple, but in little bite sized morsels :)_

 _For here though, it was a line balancing a Canon Daryl with a Slowly Moving Into A Real Relationship Daryl. So like he could put his hands on her in an intimate way, but he would have difficulty expressing his affection verbally. But if you read the follow up story here, "The Memories of Us" you might notice some threads in there, getting tied in here. Such as the way he calls her sweetheart, and wraps his arm around her hips, and the end of the day kiss. Though in the other story they've also evolved to other end of day, activities too :)_

 _Anyway, hope you folks liked it, and I'm just super happy to be able to change something on the story list from "In Progress" to "Complete." :)_


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